


heavy curtains

by Bloodsbane



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Aftercare, Consensual Non-Consent, Doctor/Patient, M/M, Medical Examination, Medical Kink, Multiple Orgasms, PeterMartin Week (The Magnus Archives), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Roleplay, Trans Martin Blackwood, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:49:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27584336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodsbane/pseuds/Bloodsbane
Summary: Martin first sees Dr. Lukas briefly, for about ten minutes before the examination. That’s how long it takes for Martin to introduce himself, strip down, and climb onto the table. There’s a curtain cutting horizontally across the middle. Martin pulls it aside just long enough to settle onto each footrest, then lets it drop. It’s a bit easier, somehow, when he doesn’t have to see his bottom half. It’s easier to pretend that he’s not spread open.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas
Comments: 8
Kudos: 127





	heavy curtains

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to sneak in one more thing before PeterMartin Week wrapped up! This was very fun to write, I hope y'all enjoy it~
> 
> Terms used for Martin are: labia/folds, hole, cunt, cock
> 
> There are a couple minor cws in the end notes.

Martin first sees Dr. Lukas briefly, for about ten minutes before the examination. That’s how long it takes for Martin to introduce himself, strip down, and climb onto the table. There’s a curtain cutting horizontally across the middle. Martin pulls it aside just long enough to settle onto each footrest, then lets it drop. It’s a bit easier, somehow, when he doesn’t have to see his bottom half. It’s easier to pretend that he’s not spread open. **  
**

He takes a breath to steady himself and leans back on the table, settling his arms on either side. There are straps, which Dr. Lukas helps secure once he comes back from retrieving Martin’s file.

Dr. Lukas’ gloves are seafoam green, as is the mask covering his face from nose to chin. His eyes are crisp blue with little wrinkles in the corners. Martin tries not to stare as he’s strapped down.

“There you go,” Dr. Lukas says, and his voice is cheerful, only slightly muffled behind his mask. Martin can’t tell if he’s smiling or not, but something in his face seems warm — or maybe pleased. He adjusts the back of the table until he’s satisfied, Martin now sitting at a slight angle with his arms secure on either side. “Now I’ll be stepping back behind the curtain for a while. Once I’ve secured your ankles, we’ll begin the examination. Sit tight, Mr. Blackwood.”

“O-okay,” Martin says falteringly. The doctor disappears behind the curtain. It’s cream-colored, so Martin can still see the shapes beyond, though not in any real detail. Dr. Lukas’ shadow soon merges with his own. Martin can feel the man’s cold, gloved hands fiddle with the straps, trying up his ankles. Spreading them apart, just slightly more. 

There’s the sound of a chair or stool being dragged across the floor, then Dr. Lukas’ sigh as he sits down. “Alright, then, let’s get a look at you.”

Martin has never had an examination like this before, so he’s really not sure what to expect. He just lays there, staring at the ceiling instead of the shadows, and tries to focus on breathing. Be calm, relax. Don’t think too hard about this man — this stranger — looking at him, touching him in such a private place. There’s the sensation of fingers prodding, ever so gently, at Martin’s thighs. On his mound, amidst his pubic hair. Ghosting over his cock, never quite touching. 

“Hm,” Dr. Lukas says. “Ah.” Then nothing more. Martin forces himself not to fidget, not to fluster, not to make a move that might betray his nerves. 

Soon enough, there’s a gloved finger tugging at his labia, pulling him gently open. Martin huffs and shifts just a bit. Dr. Lukas doesn’t make any comments, only continues to spread Martin, gently fingering at his folds, inspecting them. 

Then, in a way that feels too sudden, there’s a pressure against Martin’s hole. 

“Um,” he squeaks. 

“No need to fret,” Dr. Lukas tells him. It’s paired with a soothing hand on his thigh, rubbing slow circles into his skin in a way that feels distinctly unprofessional. “This is all part of the procedure. Now, why don’t you try relaxing for me, Mr. Blackwood? That will make this next part much easier!” 

Martin tries. He closes his eyes and takes deep breaths until the tension slowly eases from his muscles. As he does this, Dr. Lukas continues petting his thigh and gently prodding his folds, the space around his hole. Never dipping in. Martin briefly imagines what it will feel like when he finally does, and feels himself twitch. He’s blushing and he’s so very glad for the curtain between them now. 

“There you are,” says the doctor, and soon enough he’s back where he was, a finger threatening to press in, now assisted by the faintest hint of slick Martin knows must be there. He can hear the quiet squelch as Dr. Lukas probes into him, only to pull out again. He repeats the process with great patience, as if they have the entire day to get through it. Martin tries to keep his breathing steady. 

Soon enough, the finger is inside. It feels so conspicuous to Martin, thicker than his own finger, and oddly textured from the glove. It carefully curls, feeling around, and Martin can’t help the small gasp that escapes. The straps on his ankles rattle as his leg jerks. 

Dr. Lukas pulls his finger out, until only the tip is left inside. “You’re doing a wonderful job,” he says. Martin twitches again, and is mortified to feel a prickle of arousal run straight to his cock. “Try to keep still for me while I help you stretch, won’t you?”

“S-stretch? Why…”

“I’ve got to prepare you. Wouldn’t want anything else that has to get in there to hurt you, now would we? Shall we continue on like this, or do you think I may need to get something to help us along, Mr. Blackwood?”

Martin takes the moment to think it over, but there’s not much reason; he can feel how wet he is already. It’s embarrassing, really, but it means he can honestly say, “No, no! I mean, um, it’s fine. You- you can keep going, doctor.”

Dr. Lukas hums, sounding pleased, and pushes his finger back in. 

For a while it’s just this, a single finger moving in and out of Martin. Sometimes it curls, sometimes it twists; it feels like Dr. Lukas is trying to see just how many little noises he can tug out of Martin with only this. The straps on Martin’s wrists have just the right amount of give to allow him to move, but his hands will never get loose without any help. The armrests rattle, faintly, every time he jerks.

Eventually, Dr. Lukas pulls his finger out completely. Martin can hear him leave his seat and wander off somewhere else. There’s the sound of papers ruffling, of a pen writing something. Martin tries to take this moment to calm down. 

But all too soon the doctor is back, and then there are two fingers pressing into Martin, working to spread him open. He holds his breath and bears it.

There’s a part of Martin that wants to speak up. This can’t really be how an examination like this is done, right? But he’s not the doctor in the room, is he? Even still, if he’s uncomfortable, he should speak up… 

Dr. Lukas curls both fingers, shocking a gasp out of Martin. Desperately, he tries to disguise it by asking, “D-doctor, um, is this- I mean, is- is this part of the procedure?” 

“Of course it is! As I’ve said, we’ve got to stretch you out before you can take anything else.”

“Like… like what?” 

At this, he gets no reply, but he can hear the doctor chuckling under his breath. Martin’s heart begins to race, but there’s no time to dwell on the spark of fear in his chest — there’s a third finger in him now, stretching him wide. 

The doctor says, “Absolutely lovely. We’ll be finished in no time, Mr. Blackwood, so long as you keep cooperating. I’m going to be taking a look inside, now, and testing a few things out. You’ll let me know if anything hurts, won’t you?” 

Not knowing what else to say, Martin merely gives a weak sound of affirmation. He can feel his legs shaking. 

Dr. Lukas uses three fingers to keep him spread open wide. Martin wonders if he’s leaning in close to peer inside — it’s impossible to tell, any breath that might fall onto him held back by the doctor’s mask. Soon another hand is on Martin’s cunt, sliding along his folds and slowly making its way up to his cock, which ends up pinched between two fingers. The way his hips buck is completely involuntary, Martin tells himself, breathing hard through his teeth. The way he clenches around Dr. Lukas’ fingers isn’t something he can help. 

“Excellent.” The doctor pulls away. There’s a hint of regret that Martin tries to ignore. “I do believe we’re ready to move onto the next phase. You sit tight,” he said, patting Martin’s calf in a casual, friendly manner, “while I go get things ready.”

He stands and leaves, a door closing behind him. Martin lets his breathing grow a bit louder now that he was alone. The straps on his ankles and wrists remain firm. Cool air on his cunt only emphasizes how truly wet he’s gotten, and Martin wallows in his embarrassment. This is wrong, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be, and now he has no way of getting out of the situation. He shouldn't be…

The door opens, and Martin has a thought that maybe — just maybe — if he simply asks to stop, to be let go, maybe the doctor will listen. He could untie Martin and give him his clothes back, and Martin would promise never to bring it up to anyone. They could pretend like it never happened. 

“Doctor?” he calls, but there is no response. Only footsteps getting closer; only the sound of something opening, like a bottle. The seat being moved aside. Something slick and wet. “Dr. Lukas?” 

A gloved finger presses against Martin’s hole. He’d had just enough time alone to call down the slightest bit, but now he feels his body catch on fire all over again, feels himself ache with anticipation and lust. Martin tries to squirm away, but it’s no use. “W-wait,” he gasps, “wait, please.” But then the finger is inside again, pumping in and out. Then two, stretching. Then three, preparing him for… 

When the fingers finally pull away, something else takes their place. Martin can only stare at the tall shadow on the other side of the curtain. It’s close, dark and blurry, with just enough shape to differentiate head from shoulders, arms from hands. Martin watches it shift, mold into his own shadow, one hand gripping Martin’s thigh to hold it open while the other guides something to rest against Martin's wet, waiting hole. 

Martin cries out as Dr. Lukas pushes it inside. It’s thick and hard, though slick with some kind of lubricant. It slides into Martin with hardly any trouble at all. He can hear the doctor sigh, as if contented, as if satisfied. One gloved hand, now free, rests on Martin’s stomach, and the thumb settles beside his throbbing cock. 

“Now, this part is important, Mr. Blackwood,” says the doctor cheerily. “You’ll have to let me know exactly how you’re feeling while we do this, do you understand?” 

“I- I-”

“So if you feel something like this:”

Dr. Lukas swiftly pulls whatever’s inside of Martin out, then slams it back in, hard enough to make him shout. “Yes, very good! Just like that! And please don’t feel shy, it’s better for me to know what you’re feeling, so don’t bother holding back.” 

“Wait!” Martin begs through a panicked sob, a breathless moan, “Just- please, wait-” 

The doctor does not wait. He fucks Martin, driving as deep as he can go with every forward thrust. The thumb on Martin’s cock waits patiently until he’s whining openly, unable to contain his noises any longer, before rubbing at him. Martin is assaulted by sensation and feeling, his body overwhelmed by everything he cannot see past the plain, blank curtain. 

He throws his head back and moans wantonly, unable to do anything else but writhe against the stirrups. He’s fucked until he comes, legs trembling, all while Dr. Lukas says, “There now, sweetheart, you’ve been so good for me.” 

It happens two more times, Martin helpless to stop it. After the second, he feels the doctor’s movements stutter, and feels what Martin now knows is his cock as it twitches inside, filling him. Buried to the base, Dr. Lukas grinds his hips against Martin’s, relentlessly drawing out sobs and half-hearted pleas. 

Finally, when Martin can hardly move, he weakly calls out, “Peter.” 

“Had enough then?” 

“Mmhm.” 

Peter pulls out, and Martin shivers at the sound of it, slick and filthy. He lets out a sigh as Peter finally removes the straps on his ankles, carefully helping his legs down. Peter’s hands rub at them, helping the blood flow, soothing the pins-and-needles that always come after they do this for so long. “Let me fetch water.” 

“No, here.” 

“Hm?”

“C’mere,” Martin demands. “Wrists.”

“Oh, right.” 

Peter pulls back the curtain almost sheepishly, poking his head in. He’s still got the mask on, but his gloves are gone. One hand unties the back while his other comes up to Martin’s cheek. His thumb catches the last of Martin’s lingering tears, wiping it away. “And how was that? Smiley face? Frowny face? _Very_ frowny face?” 

Martin makes the most deadpan expression he can manage having just been thoroughly fucked. It makes Peter laugh, which makes Martin smile. “Two smiley faces,” Martin answers weakly. “Maybe three, if you let me out of these things and get me some water.”

“I offered water,” Peter reminds him, then undoes the straps. He rubs Martin’s wrists, too, which is sweet — usually he’s off as soon as they’re done with scenes like this, touch-averse and needing a moment to himself before he can manage any half-decent aftercare. 

“Go on, then,” says Martin, and Peter does just that. Martin waits on the table, too worn out to even consider getting to his feat on his own. He bats at the curtain, watching it sway, until Peter returns with water, wet rags, and a kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> CWs:  
> > off-screen negotiation  
> > consent checks are There but attention isn't drawn to them explicitly   
> > martin’s mood in the scene is meant to be a bit scared/embarrassed but definitely into what’s happening


End file.
